The Best Jedi
by ambiguously
Summary: The second Death Star is burning and they've all got some decisions to make.


It takes twelve days for the Death Star to burn itself out. The weird, red hulk rises and sets over Endor like a dying moon, claimed more and more to cinders with every spin. Han toasted it the first night, celebrating their victory. Now, much like everyone else, he observes the decaying giant over his shoulder with a disturbed half-glance. Ackbar's best people have assured the Ewoks and the Rebels still cleaning up the mess here that the ominous cloud of debris is in a stable orbit, and anything that isn't is so small it will burn up in the atmosphere high above them. That doesn't stop the nightmares Han has: the enormous, burning face of the space station filling the expanse of the whole sky as it rains fire in the final crash.

Waking up night after night to that is enough to make Han wish he was already back on his ship, getting the hell out of here.

Waking up next to Leia, her face pinched with some bad dream of her own until she's slowly but happily roused by Han's decision a bad night could be turned around, is enough to keep him here until she tells him where they're going next.

This morning, he's up early. Leia's back asleep, catching another hour before her time is no longer her own for the next eighteen or so. Han lets her rest and goes outside to dig up some breakfast. Their short, furry hosts have been overgenerous with meals, shoving extra portions into hands, paws, and so on like the food will spoil if they don't all eat four times their own mass each day. Han's not keen on that though he does like the grub here when it's not actual grubs. The always hot stewpot over the fire turns up bug-free today and smells delicious. He ladles himself a bowl's worth and sits on the edge of one of the criss-crossing bridges overlooking the arboreal village, his legs dangling as he slurps.

Creepy Death Star leering overhead, almost being eaten by Ewoks, and nearly dying aside, this is about the happiest he can remember being in a long time.

Just about.

He hears the familiar hum of Luke's lightsaber striking out decisively and the two thumps of whatever target he's throwing for himself neatly sliced in half. Han gulps the last of his breakfast, stretches, and wanders towards the noise. Han's ears are good and the rest of the village is only at a dull roar this early in the morning. Luke is two trees over, impressing a group of five or six smaller, fuzzier Ewoks while he performs his exercises. There's a little cheer from the ragged crowd each time he hits something.

One melon gets sliced into four pieces, the lightsaber dancing in the air, and Luke shuts it off. With a fond smile, he tells the kids, "No more until it's time to cut up lunch." Disappointed, they scurry around him to pick up the fallen fruit, shoving bites into their cheeks and carrying the rest to their hearths.

"That melon had it coming."

Luke gives him a different, fonder smile. "I gave it a fair chance."

"You're up early again." Han hasn't figured out where Luke is sleeping. After the first Death Star's destruction, the kid could have bunk-surfed for months on his new-found popularity. Instead he'd had a very private personal collapse when the events of the preceding days caught up with him, and he'd crashed out in the Falcon's spare bunk a lot until his head was back together.

Chewie is the only one sleeping aboard the Falcon these past few days, unless he's been inviting some of his short new pals home, which Han does not want to think about ever. Han hasn't caught Luke sneaking out of anyone else's hut, or ship, and after the first time Luke found Han making an early exit from Leia's to protect a reputation she doesn't care much about, Han figures the kid is up with the songbirds.

Come to think of it, a lot of the birds up in the canopy sing all damn night.

"Couldn't sleep. I figured I'd get in some practice time. I hadn't counted on the audience."

"You know kids. The parents are asleep until noon, and the little ones are up causing trouble." Han doesn't have a lot of memories of the Republic orphanage but that one is pretty clear. After the Republic fell and the little spit of money dried up, he wound up outside with the rest, and that was the end of the memories and his childhood all in one go.

He shakes off the past. Old days were bad days. They're all living in a new age, he hopes. Palpatine is dead. Vader is dead. Jabba's dead, too, and may they all rot together. Han and his friends are alive. Things are definitely looking up.

So why is Luke's face so pale under the smile? "Hey. Did you try the stew this morning yet?" Han could go for another bowl.

"After my run." He gives Han a nod and jogs off, leaving Han to decide if he's going to join him smacking the old boots to the weird swaying bridges, or not. 'Not' wins. Han watches him as long as he can.

Within five minutes of Leia's first waking yawn, she's embroiled in what Han thinks is a minor problem. A bowl of stew at her arm, she's talking over her commlink to someone about extending a gesture to the Mining Guild while the cute lieutenant who's been acting as her aide the last few days brings her up to speed with the talks going on in the rest of the fleet during the overnight.

Han can't follow any of it. He's sure Leia will have to rejoin the fleet soon. He is more than happy to let her use the Millennium Falcon as her personal vessel. For a little while. Not forever.

Now there's a word with teeth. He's been a part of this scrappy Rebellion for a few years now. The remnants of the Empire are still out there. The job isn't finished, but it soon will be. He is not up to a talk with Leia involving the word 'forever' yet. They're still catching up with 'now.' If anyone asked him five years ago if he was willing to talk about forever, Han would have laughed. Or pointed his thumb over at Chewie, never mind what people thought. Chewie's still his best pal and the being he's going to go through forever with. He might not be the only one any more.

He hopes forever doesn't mean cooling his heels in one place for long. Leia has been roving with the rest of the Alliance from base to base, which suits Han fine. She might have to settle once the government picks a new home. He doesn't know how that figures into his plans, her plans, or any plans.

Han catches up with Luke around lunchtime. The stew is still stewing, but there's plenty of cold roast from last night's feast. "How was the run?"

"Fine. The forest floor here has the most interesting variety of life. I spent an hour watching a mouse build a nest."

Weird. Weirder, Luke's bowl is empty, and he only took about a spoonful of stew to begin with. Han takes the bowl from him. "I'll get us seconds."

"None for me, thanks."

Awkwardly, Han drops the dishes into the big, bubbling washpot by the fire instead. The Ewoks may feed them, but they're all expected to help with the washing up.

"There you are," Leia says. Her hair is frazzled, but she has that smirk that says she's just talked someone into doing what she wants them to do. She gets a bowl of her own and sits beside Luke, digging in with an appetite.

"Mining Guild thing went well?" Han asks.

She glances at him, an amused tilt of her mouth letting him know he has won a point for paying attention. "Very well. I'll have to take the mission myself. They'll talk to me. But they are willing to deal."

Luke says, "That's great news." He sounds genuinely pleased for her. "Let me know how it goes."

"I was hoping you'd come with me. It wouldn't hurt to have a Jedi in my corner while I negotiate."

"I'm not a holochess piece."

"No, you're my best friend. My father told me the Jedi used to work on many negotiations like this, back in the day. They were the Republic's peacekeepers, there to be fair and impartial."

"I dunno," Han said. "Luke's not exactly impartial."

They both turn to him, and in that moment, he sees the exact same exasperated expression on both faces. It's creepy and funny all in one. They haven't told anyone about the whole twins thing yet, except Han who immediately told Chewie. Chewie doesn't gossip. Not much. Nobody but Han understands why it's sweet and weird for them to look the same sometimes, most often when they're both annoyed with him.

"I'll go," Luke says. "You're right. That used to be one of the tasks the Jedi undertook. I've been reading up." His eyes are distant, like he's listening to someone else's memory.

They don't even ask if Han's taking them. They don't have to.

They leave that night. Han has been eager to get off-world, shoving provisions into the hold like his feet are on fire. He remembers a time when Leia's clothes took up a third of the cargo space, and the only reason he stopped complaining before she heard was that Luke explained to him the formal dresses and robes were literally all her possessions. Those had been lost back at Hoth. Sometime between the carbonite and his eyes opening up to the sand surrounding the sarlacc pit, Luke had dropped back to his own home and picked up a few small items the neighbors had saved from the burnt-out shell of his home. And that was it, for both of them, except the memories. Han doesn't complain now when Leia takes up a quarter of the hold with the cargo she's using for trade. He won't say he misses the clothes, but he does miss the wistful smile she used to get when she thought no one was looking. The very last thing she owns is one hologram Luke found of someone who is probably their grandma, and that's not even hers, not really.

Sometimes Han wants to scoop them both in a hug bigger than Chewie's arms, but he doesn't roll like that. He's better at surprising his two favorite humans with the special meals he's packed. It's not the best any of them have eaten, but Han paid attention, and he knows which of the concentrated and freeze-dried meals the Rebellion stocks are their favorites. With a casual grin, he pulls out Luke's favorite soup and Leia's favorite meat and grain dish. She's delighted. Luke grins and compliments the meal, and it takes Han two hours to realize he only took three bites before retiring to his own cabin. Jedi stuff, he says.

Two hours is a long time, and Han is mid-nibble on Leia's thigh. That's not a good time to tell her he's thinking about her brother. He continues on his path, mind distracted if body very willing. He's getting to know her body well, and it's not long until she's quivering happily and pulling his wet mouth up for a needy kiss. It would be rude to leave now. Han has learned to be polite.

In the morning, he half expects Luke to give him the evil eye the second Han very obviously comes out of the quarters he's sharing. Han is sleeping with Luke's sister. Usually that kind of situation leads to tough times. Instead, Luke is sitting crosslegged, eyes closed, with a calm "Good morning" for Han that doesn't seem to carry any death threats.

When Leia emerges a few minutes later, hair a little mussed from last night, he spares her a smile, and for half a sec, there's more in it than just a friendly hello. Then the shields go up, and Luke's face is back to the bland, peaceful serenity Han just now figured out isn't real.

Leia's on a conference call when Han finally gets Luke alone again, cornering him in his own room. He feels a little weird. He's always been aware that he's got some years on both of them. Especially in the early days, when Han's whole world brightened up when either one smiled at him, he felt a little like a creep because they were both teenagers. They've all done a lot of growing up since then. He's still a little nervous about how this looks, if just to himself. The half-scared expression Luke covers up fast doesn't help.

"Need something?"

"Yeah. I need to know what the hell is up with you."

Luke blinks slowly. "I was reading."

"Not that." Well, it is that, too. Luke will take any excuse he can get to pore over old Jedi lore. Which is kind of his job now. "You've been weirder than usual lately."

Luke gives him the same exasperated look Han is very used to by now. "Thanks."

"You're not eating. I'm not sure you've been sleeping. Every time someone's nice to you, you run off." Han folds his arms. "You can tell me, or you can tell Leia. The only reason she hasn't noticed yet is because she's so busy. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. We won. Everything is fine now."

"Except you found out Darth Vader was your dad, and he's dead now, and that girl you've had a crush on for years is your sister. It's okay to feel weird about all that." Han feels a little weird, like he's channeling one of those droids the orphanage owned way back when, that sat him in a soft chair and showed him pictures and asked him if he was happy or sad. The Rebellion owned one for a while, before it self-destructed.

He doesn't miss the very tiny tic Luke makes when Han says the word 'crush.'

"I'm dealing with it all, thank you." He shifts slightly, holding up the datapad he's been reading. "There wasn't much left of the Jedi library after the destruction of the Order. When we were back on Tatooine, I went by Ben's old place. He said I should." There's that distant look again. Add in regular conversations with dead guys to the pile on Luke's shoulders, Han thinks, including dead guys who knew Luke was spending all that time with his sister and yet they never bothered to mention that detail. "He had dozens of books. I downloaded what I could. It's a mix. Philosophy, law, even poetry. It's fascinating."

Han smirks. "Jedi love poetry? Now there's an image."

"No. The Order forbade attachment. Not to their families, not to anyone else. Masters and apprentices were close, but once the apprentice was fully-trained, they were both encouraged to take on new apprentices. No love poetry," he says with quiet certainty.

Han doesn't have much to offer here. He was vaguely aware of Jedi when he was a kid, and when they were all killed, he didn't even notice for years. Now he's got one who's fast on his way to being Han's brother-in-law, except Han's own feelings aren't exactly brotherly. He's adored this kid since the day they met, and here Luke is explaining in his calmest tone why he intends to be alone for the rest of his life.

"Do Jedi also not eat or sleep?"

"I do eat. I just haven't been hungry."

"Right," Han says, and he listens, really listens, to the silences. "How bad are the nightmares?"

"What?" Luke asks, a little too fast, a little too casual.

"You heard me. Mine are horrible, all fire and destruction. Leia's are just as bad. What's been keeping you up?"

"I'm fine."

"Is it him?" Han's aiming for the kindest, most open expression he can manage. It's almost like reeling in a mark from back in the old days, only the last thing in the world he wants is to con Luke. "You know, tall, dark and evil?"

Luke's ready to snap at him, which would be great. Anything is better than this brittle calm. Instead, he lets out a breath, unclenches his hand, and nods. "Yeah. Usually. He threatened to go after Leia. He was goading me into fighting him, and it worked. I keep dreaming that I failed. So I wake up and don't go back to sleep."

Vader would have seen Luke's weak spot, the one person he couldnt help but protect. "She's okay, Luke."

"Attachment is dangerous. He knew that. I can't risk being tempted that way again. I'm not strong enough."

What to say to that? Han doesn't get the Jedi stuff. He doesn't have to. Luke thinks caring will drive him into a spooky dark helmet of his own, and who is Han to tell him otherwise?

He's Han.

"You're an idiot. Sure, Vader goaded you by threatening Leia. Sure, you went after him for it. Bad guys do this all the time, Jedi or no Jedi. They're going to take a shipload of orphans hostage and put a blaster to your son's head and make you choose. It's what bad guys do."

"Jedi aren't supposed to have sons. They're supposed to save the orphans every time, not run off to Bespin because they had a vision."

And there's the rest. It isn't just this last time with Vader. Luke's been happy to drop everything for Han and Leia forever. "You always save us, and the orphans too. You already care, kid. Maybe think about using your feelings as an asset instead of a liability."

Luke shakes his head. "It doesn't work that way. You have to pick one. You remember that ex-Jedi we met. He said he couldn't keep choosing between his heart and his duty. I've thought about that conversation a lot." He blinks, and for a second, it's just Luke, the gawky, goofy kid who loves to fly and excuses himself every time he belches. His face changes back to the other one before he says, "I care about you both more than I should. Always have. I wondered how it would all work out with the three of us, and now it has. Leia's my sister, and you're both happy, and that's how things should be."

He's not completely wrong. The cards flew in the air, and they've come down on the table in a decent hand. Han and Leia have a pair, and Luke didn't build one with her before they found out. If being a Jedi means never waking up next to someone, and watching them move in their sleep, and thinking to yourself how amazingly lucky you are, Han wants nothing to do with it. The problem is, whatever Luke says, Han is pretty sure Luke would be a lot happier the same way.

"Fine," he says, though nothing's fine. Han ought to be happy, and in a lot of ways, he is. He can't bear that bland look on Luke's face. "We'll arrive in a couple of hours. You don't have to sleep, and you don't have to eat, but you'll help her a lot more if you do both before she needs you at 100%."

* * *

It's three hours later, and Han is restless. Leia has been in the meeting since they got here, and Luke is with her. "My bodyguard," as Leia introduced him to the negotiators.

Han has nothing to do. He's done his systems checks in case they need to make a speedy getaway. He's re-inventoried their supplies even though he knows what was aboard and what they've consumed in one day. It's busy work, something Chewbacca is more than happy to point out, along with the fact that Luke and Leia are fine.

"I know."

He's worried anyway, and he doesn't know why. Sometimes Han gets this itch deep between his shoulders telling him something is about to turn sour. He and Chewie are alive today because Han learned to listen to that bad feeling. He's got it now.

He checks the systems again.

* * *

They stay for an entire day, and nothing goes wrong. This is unprecedented. At every noise, Han has started, expected a bombing raid from Imperial sympathizers, or a double-cross from the Guild. Instead, Leia has a treaty in hand and their good word. Luke hasn't had to fight their way out of a single room.

It's weird.

The ship is halfway to the next rendezvous point when Han has to remind himself they're not with the Rebellion any longer, that there is no more Rebellion. The Emperor is dead. They're just free citizens of the former Empire and brand-new could be Republic. If he and Chewie are free citizens who might have a few criminal charges in their past, those times are done and it's a bright new morning now, right?

Right.

He changes course. Chewie finds out almost instantly. The other two take a few hours to realize they aren't headed where they used to be. "Han," Leia asks, with her not entirely patient voice. "Where are we going?"

"You've already transmitted the treaty details back to Mon Mothma. The shipments will start with or without us. You don't have to be present."

She crosses her arms. "And?"

"And we've all earned a vacation. So we're taking one."

Luke sighs. Leia sighs. "We don't have time for a vacation," he says, and she nods in agreement.

"Two days," Han says. "We have time for two days. I know this place a few hours from here. Warm sand, great drinks." Luke doesn't drink, but Han will be happy to down his share. "Best restaurants this side of Coruscant. When is the last time either of you sat down for a meal that wasn't out of the canteen or made by an Ewok?"

"This morning," Leia says promptly. "The Guild invited us to breakfast."

"Okay, besides that. We're going. I can have you back in three days. They won't even have time to miss you." He watches both faces. They're about to argue, and he doesn't want an argument. He doesn't want to get back to where they'll pick up old duties and new roles, where Luke will be some distant Jedi, and Leia will be some politician. Not yet.

He doesn't have the words for all this.

Thank goodness Chewbacca isn't in the room right now. "I want us to go somewhere together they don't know who we are, and won't care."

"You can't run away from problems forever," Leia says in her sensible voice.

Han hates this. He'd rather try a smooth smile and a subtle plan that lands him everything he wants, not some risky bet with all his cards out there and nothing held back. Subtle doesn't work on this pair, though. Never has. He wouldn't have either one any other way.

He grabs Luke by the shirt, and pulls him in for a kiss. No tongues, not yet. He wants to spend time later cracking open these lips for a deep, dirty kiss that leaves Luke panting, but if he pushes now, he'll lose the whole pot. Sweet it is, and steady, just like the first time Han kissed Leia, and just like the multitude of times Luke's kissed her, too. If this turns out to be the last time he gets to kiss Luke, then he'll remember the moment as something good.

After what he hopes isn't so long he's ruined things with both of them, Han pulls away. As Luke stands there flummoxed, Han says, "I'm not asking for forever. I'm asking for a couple of days. We won't make it work longer than that. I've met us."

Leia's eyes are huge. Han kicks himself. He shouldn't have said anything. He should have just kept his trap shut, flown them home, and just dealt with things by himself.

Nah, that doesn't sound like him. Better to go down in flames for what's real.

"Luke, in two days, we can go back, and you can be the best Jedi there ever was who never feels anything for anybody. You can spend the rest of your life telling yourself and everyone else you don't love her, or me. I'll even back you up on it when anyone asks. But I know better, and so do you. We all went through hell for one another. I think we deserve a little time to be happy together before the next disaster."

"This is a bad idea," Luke says, but there's a wistful sound. He's ready to be convinced. He's been fighting this far too long. They all have.

Leia says, "Han?"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss him again." She's watching intently, and the interest is much clearer now. Leia's been holding back things, too. Han remembers very well that she was always the one who kissed Luke first.

Han isn't going to push his luck twice. He's a lot slower this time, but Luke doesn't step away. His eyes squeeze shut as their lips touch, and his mouth is open, sweet and needy and not so much yielding as choosing to give ground this once.

"Two days," he says, when he can breathe, looking between Han and Leia. "Somewhere they don't know our names."

"And won't," Leia says. She pulls Luke in for a kiss of her own as Han watches, feeling an old sorrow finally loosen inside himself. Two days. They don't even have to leave the ship if they decide dinner and the beach aren't private enough. Chewbacca won't care as long as the door is shut.

None of them will have a nightmare for the next two nights. That's all that matters.

* * *

end


End file.
